Chapter 42
Violet
The theater was completely dark.
I stood center stage, the vast emptiness of the auditorium stretching out before me like an abyss. Rows upon rows of seats disappeared into shadow, and somewhere above, the rigging and catwalks creaked softly in the silence.
My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I'd arrived an hour early and let myself in through the side entrance with the key that Julian had somehow procured for me. He really did have connections everywhere, thanks to his Dionysus Club membership.
Now all I had to do was wait for Cherry’s arrival.
I heard it before I saw it; the distant sound of a door opening, followed by footsteps echoing through the lobby. A moment later, light briefly spilled into the auditorium as another door swung open, and then a thin beam from a phone flashlight swept across the seats.
“Violet?” Cherry's voice called out, hushed but urgent. “Are you in here?”
I didn't answer. Just stood there, waiting for her to find me.
The flashlight beam swept higher, finally landing on me. Cherry made a small sound of relief and hurried down the aisle toward the stage. “Oh my god, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you! Why are you up there?”
I looked out over the empty theater, at all those seats where audiences would sit and watch performances.
“I've always wanted to know what it felt like,” I said. “To be up on stage, acting my heart out.”
Cherry let out a light laugh as she climbed the steps at the side of the stage. “Well, you picked a hell of a time for your theatrical debut,” she said, crossing toward me. “God, I'm so glad to see you.
She pulled me into a hug, and I forced myself not to stiffen. Forced myself to return it, wrapping my arms around her small frame even though every instinct screamed to push her away.
This was the woman who'd killed my sister. Who'd held me while I cried about her death. Who'd lied to my face for weeks.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I said, because that's what she'd expect to hear.
“I missed you too.” She pulled back, keeping her hands on my shoulders as she studied my face in the dim light. “By the way, how did you get in here?”
“I tried one of the side doors, and it was unlocked. I guess someone forgot to close it properly before they left earlier.”
“Ugh. Probably.” She squeezed my shoulders once more before releasing me, glancing around. “Should I text the others to tell them we’re in here, or did you already do that?”
“They're all running late,” I said, pulling out my phone and making a show of checking it.
“Dylan texted that he got held up at the library. He forgot it closed early tonight and had to wait for security to let him out. Jeremiah’s coming from his cousin's welcome-home dinner in Harborview, and he's going the long way around because they’ve closed a bunch of roads for maintenance work. And Ginny...” I shook my head.
“Her aunt and cousins are back in town, and apparently her mom insisted she stay for dessert.
She said she'll be here by eleven-thirty at the latest.”
“Oh, okay.”
“But it's fine,” I said quickly. “I can start showing you what I found. Then when the others get here, we'll all go through it together.”
“Yeah, that works.” Cherry smiled, and in the darkness, it looked almost predatory. “So where is it? This file you found?”
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the manila folder Julian had given me earlier. Inside were pages of printed coordinates and timestamps; real tracking data that Roman had pulled from the night Cal died.
“Here,” I said, holding it out.
Cherry took it, her fingers brushing mine as she did. Then she opened the folder and angled her phone light to read.
“You’re right. It definitely looks like tracking data from a cell phone,” she said, nodding slowly.
“It is. But I realized I was wrong before. The data isn’t from Roman’s phone after all,” I replied, raising a brow. “It comes from someone else entirely.”
Her eyes widened. “Who?”
One of the massive stage spotlights suddenly blazed to life with an audible clunk, bathing Cherry in blinding white light. She was caught in its beam like an insect pinned under glass, the harsh illumination washing out her features and casting stark shadows across the stage floor.
“What the fuck?” she muttered, squinting and lifting her arm to shield herself from the sudden bright glare. “Who’s in the lighting booth?”
“I don’t think anyone is,” I said. “I saw a sign outside saying the facilities department is testing the electrical systems in all the southside campus buildings tonight. So it's probably some sort of glitch caused by that.”
The light began to dim to a more bearable level, and Cherry lowered her arm. “Huh. That’s so weird.”
“Yeah, it is,” I said lightly. I cocked my head. “Maybe it’s a theater ghost. That’s a thing, right?”
She snorted with amusement. “Yeah, supposedly. And I guess we do need some light in here. Thanks, ghost!”
I smiled. “Wanna take another look at the data now that you can see it better?”
“Uh-huh.” Cherry looked down at the first page again, brows furrowing. “Ugh, we definitely need Jeremiah in here.”
“Turn to the last page,” I said. “It has the person’s cell number. You might recognize it.”
Cherry flicked to the third page. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned the number I’d printed in huge font in the middle. “Um… this is my number.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t get it.” Her gaze snapped back to meet mine. “Is this some sort of joke?”
“Nope,” I said in a clipped tone. “It’s you, Cherry. That tracking data—along with the burner phone messages and their timestamps on page four—proves that you killed Calista.”
She blinked rapidly, then let out a nervous laugh. “This is a joke. It’s one of Dylan’s prank videos, right?”
“You think I’d joke about finding my sister’s killer?” I asked flatly.
“Well, no, but… how could you possibly think I’d do anything to Cal? She was my best friend,” Cherry said. Her voice had gone husky, and her eyes were already shimmering with tears. “That’s such a horrible thing to say.”
I wasn’t moved at all. I knew how she could make herself cry on cue, just like all good actresses could. She’d bragged about it enough times.
“How do you explain your location compared with the messages you were sending to the burner phone, then?” I asked, lifting a brow. “Or the fact that the data shows you never went anywhere near Port Engel that night, even though you claimed you did?”
“Oh my god, Vee, you really don’t see what’s happening here, do you?
” she said, shaking her head. “They’ve been brainwashing you at that estate.
The Dionysus guys. They must’ve faked this data to convince you to turn against your own friends.
That’s how abusers work, you know. They isolate you in really insidious ways. You need to get out of that place.”
“If that’s true, then just show me the Google Maps tracking data on your phone,” I said, folding my arms. “Scroll back to Halloween last year and show me how it doesn’t match the so-called fake data in these pages.”
Cherry’s eyes widened. “I… I’m not showing you my phone!”
“Why not?” My brows rose again. “You want to prove that you’re innocent, right? And that the evil Dionysus Club is manipulating me. So do it. Prove it. Show me your phone.”
She took a short step backward, head slowly shaking.
“You know… data like this isn’t even legally admissible,” she said, waving the file.
“Because I obviously never gave anyone permission to hack my phone and track it. It was illegally obtained, and therefore it can’t be used. If it’s real, that is. Which it isn’t.”
“Most innocent people aren't super concerned with the legal technicalities of the evidence,” I replied. “They're more concerned about proclaiming their innocence. Or proving it. And like I said, all you have to do is show me your Google Maps activity to prove yours. Pretty easy, right?”
She rolled her eyes, dropped the file, and turned away. “This is completely ridiculous. I’m leaving.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
She turned back to me. “Why not?” she asked, voice dripping with scorn.
“Because I lied when I said I came here alone,” I said.
“I actually invited Julian to come with me, and he and his friends are guarding every single exit to this building. They won’t let you leave.
Not until we’ve finished our conversation.
Oh, and if you try to attack me… well, all I have to do is scream, and they’ll be here in five seconds flat.
So I wouldn’t do that either, if I were you. ”
Cherry rolled her eyes again. “We have finished this conversation, Vee. I haven’t done anything wrong, and I didn’t kill Calista.” She threw her hands up. “That’s it. That’s all I have to say. Conversation over.”
“Do you really think anyone else will believe you when I tell them what I’ve found?” I asked.
“Yeah, actually, I do,” she replied, smiling thinly.
“Because everyone knows Cal was my best friend, and they also know you were taken in the Selection hunt. So you’re the one that no one will believe.
They'll just think you're yet another girl who went crazy after spending a few weeks at the Dionysus estate.”
“You’re awfully hostile for an innocent person,” I said, frowning. “And those tears dried up pretty damn quick, didn’t they?”
She scoffed. “I know what you’re doing, Violet.
You're trying to goad me into admitting that I did it. But it's not going to work, because there’s nothing for me to admit,” she said.
“And honestly, I can’t believe you would ever make such a heinous accusation against me.
That’s why I’m not crying anymore. Because I’m so fucking mad at you. As I should be!”
“Oh, I forgot to mention… the tracking data isn’t the only proof I have,” I said, straightening my shoulders. “I also figured out that puncture mark on Cal’s thigh. It was from your EpiPen.”